


the great strength of silence

by quodthey



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 13:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quodthey/pseuds/quodthey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The thing about silence is that it is unavoidable.</i>
</p>
<p>A "The Quiet World" AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the great strength of silence

**Author's Note:**

> AU based on the poem "The Quiet World" by Jeffrey McDaniel, which you can read [here](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/179259). It'll probably make more sense if you do.

This is how the first day goes:

They knew it was coming. How could they not? Everyone in America knew.

The kitchen is silent, but for JARVIS who reads the newspapers aloud for them, where Clint would normally do it, shouting out parts of articles to other rooms. There is none of Clint’s emotion, just a calm and steady voice.

Clint is eating toast, and watching a bird. Tony says nothing. He has a meeting later. Thor honours his friend’s sacrifice by remaining perfectly silent for three days, and only speaking when someone else does.

Natasha watches them. Bucky watches her.

Steve and Pepper, adaptable as ever, are used to it within a week, to nobody’s surprise. They always have been able to convey entire paragraphs of meaning in a raised eyebrow.

Fury glares at everyone all day. They say nothing.

 

 

Bucky doesn't think of him having one hundred and sixty seven words, only one hundred and sixty three, because he wastes four every morning when he looks at Nat over breakfast, kisses her and says, "I love you, sweetheart," before leaving.

Natasha says nothing, but that's okay. Her hand curls around the back of his head, and if some mornings she seems a little more desperate than normal, neither of them say anything.

(It would be a waste, anyway.)

 

 

On Sundays the only words Bucky and Natasha utter are each others names, over and over and over again, until there is nothing but gasps and groans.

Natasha presses her mouth to his neck, his chest, his arms; carves her name into Bucky’s skin and bones with stuttering breath and clawing hands. He holds her close, and they say nothing.

 

 

The Avengers don't go on as many missions anymore.

"Too dangerous," said a note from Fury. That doesn't explain why Natasha and Bucky vanish sometimes, Steve following not too long after. The Tower feels empty without them. Steve is noticeably _gone_ \-- it's hard for them to ignore the conspicuous absence of their very own towering pillar of all that is good in the world, and his lurking shadows.

They get back, and Bruce holds out noodles, and nobody says anything about how Natasha is just one big bruise and Steve is limping and Bucky won’t let them out of his sight. They orient themselves around one another, their own solar system in the universe that is Avengers Tower, sometimes breaking off to other others, but always separate, always their own.

 

 

The thing about silence is that it is unavoidable, seeping under doors and through cracks in windows and clinging to clothes and skin like cigarette smoke, like the blood under their nails and the ghosts that trail behind them. Every one of their words sits on their tongue, heavy and unutterable, immutable, permanent. 

 

 

Old music replaces their breathing, and the Tower is louder than it has been in weeks.

Metallica segues into Ella Fitzgerald, and Steve pulls Pepper into a dance. They smile at Tony, who waves before disappearing into his work shop for the rest of the night.

Steve’s one hundred and sixty seventh word of the day is “Hello,” to Pepper, at 23:59. Steve’s first and second words are “You’re beautiful,” at 00:01. Pepper laughs softly, and they dance.

 

 

There is no such thing as "taking back," or "not meaning" what you say; there is truth, trickling like pure clean water from people's mouths in drops. They do not sully their words anymore. They don't want to waste, and Buck would get up on television, on one of those shows they used to invite people on to Before, and talk for hours about that if he could. If he could, if he could, if he could. He would say everything if he could.

 

 

_You don't know what you have until it's gone_ , he taps out on Natasha's hip in Morse code.

_Go to sleep_ , she taps on his wrist. _Early morning_.

Bucky huffs out a breath against the back of her neck. “Run out?”

Sleep is warm and welcoming. Natasha smiles. "I - "


End file.
